Compulsions: The Journal of Casey McDonald
by DarlingQueenMab
Summary: When Paul suggests Casey start a journal to channel her thoughts into, she complies immediately. The more she reviews her own thoughts, however, the more worried she gets at some minor obsessions and some odd compulsions. Why exactly is she so set on getting even with Derek? What exactly is he to her? Set in "Mice and Men." Rated M for later chapters; Dasey. Journal style.
1. Chapter 1

Dear Shiny New Journal,

In the past few years, my life has changed drastically in several ways. It started with my parents' divorce, which is something a lot of people my age have dealt with, so not something we have to necessarily dwell on. They were in love, they couldn't work it out, and they amicably split—and while my mother does have some anxiety dealing with my father now, neither harbors any sort of resentment. Then came the living with my sister and my mother on our own phase, which was actually pretty fantastic. We were clean, respectful, and wonderfully sophisticated. Even though my sister Lizzie is only 11, she is fairly mature and was as content with our household as much as I was. And then things changed.

Now, I'm not trying to say I'm angry about the change. It's just, there was already so much change! To go from happy family to happy family-minus-dad was an easy transition compared to the next stage: parental dating. Mom started seeing a new guy, which was great since she was happy, but sucktastic when it got serious. Suddenly I was saddled with a new stepdad and three new step-sibs. And I love my family, I really do. I still love my mom and Lizzie. I love my step-dad and how hard he tries to understand us. I love my newest, littlest sister, who no doubt with be a fantastic feminist someday with all these strong female figures running around. I love my new little brother, Edwin, who, as immature and unpleasant smelling he can be, is a genuinely great kid. And I tolerate Derek.

Derek, sadly, is my new slightly older step-brother, and I have dealt with his ridiculous shenanigans for months on end now. He's immature, obnoxious, and loves pulling pranks on his 'keener' step-sister, namely: me. And I'll admit it, I'm a pretty easy target. I'm a bit, to use Emily's words, 'neurotic.' I'm a clean freak, I love school, and I'm not so great with the boys. But that doesn't mean he has the right to prank, tease, or torture me 24/7! It's like he thinks about pranking me more than I think about cleaning and school and boys. And people think I'm the obsessive one.

In any case, there are two facts I've accepted in this time—truths universally acknowledged, if you will. The first is simple: despite the monstrous amount of instability in my life, I will always score perfect marks in school. It's just a staple of who I am as a person, and it's not apt to change anytime soon. The second fact is more less appealing: I never score against my step-brother Derek. It's something I'd love to change, sure, but, to be completely honest and rational, I doubt it's going to happen anytime soon. He's just too good at scoring, both at hockey and with girls (though I only know these things from rumor really, since I know nothing about hockey and tend to stay out of his love life. At least he's got the hockey trophies and the school reputation to back these reported facts.).

There are, however, a handful of things I can use to my advantage in this war I wage against Derek—one that frankly, he started against me, so it's not like I'm being like a purposefully bad person by looking out for these things. I'm not being mean, I'm just hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine. It's totally different. And to be honest, I don't need to take any sass from a journal. You're supposed to keep track of my thoughts, not make me over-think my actions and morals when it comes to revenge! Though it does seem Paul is right: getting my thoughts on paper really does help, and writing all this down does kind of seem just like a one on one with him. Go figure. Maybe I'll just call you Paul, too. Ha! Paul Two, get it?

I digress. I have found in Derek a weakness, and it is one I look very forward to exploiting: mice! It seems George neglected to tell my mother about the mouse problem this house seems to get every winter, when it's too cold for the little rodents outside. Now, this doesn't really bother me or mom, and certainly not animal-lover Lizzie, but the boys? I've never heard them shriek so loud and panicked before! This is going to be a good winter, I'm thinking. With Lizzie to help catch them, I'll have an arsenal of mousey friends at my convenience. Soon, I'll have a substantial mark on the Casey vs. Derek scoreboard.

So begins our journey together, Paul Two. It's going to be a crazy ride.

Love,

Casey


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Paul Two,

Well, another day another complication. I'm sure at some point I'll get so used to my unusual life that it'll become usual to me, but today was definitely not that day. I've been looking forward to my next big English project ever since I heard the subject would be poetry. I even picked my poet in advance: Emily Barrett Browning. I mean, a romantic, disabled, abolitionist, female Victorian poet who wooed her husband with her poetry and inspired not only Edgar Alan Poe but also Emily Dickinson? She's irresistible as a topic. I've had handfuls of her poems memorized since I was in grade school.

In preparation of this project, I even began sliding some of her poems into Emily's locker so that she could start studying early too. Of course, I was promptly accused to pranking her when she mentioned them and I confessed that it was me instead of the secret admirer she thought it might be. But how was I to know she'd take it like that? She says I need to work on understanding other people, and as my best friend I suppose I ought to take her advice seriously.

"I can't believe you wouldn't think about that," she said, obviously annoyed. "I mean, if you started getting Victorian love poems in your locker, what would you think?"

I simpered. "That someone was a big fan of Emily Barrett Browning and thought you'd enjoy some of her sonnets so we could do the best project ever for English class?"

She bopped me on the head with her notebook and sighed. "I doubt that. I'm only just as boy obsessed as you are. I really thought someone liked me."

"I'm sorry! I just guess I wasn't thinking. And if it makes any difference," I add with a wide grin, "I do like you!"

"Yeah, as a friend! That doesn't mean I'll be getting any smooch sessions any time soon. I mean, feel free to offer, but you know I'm more into the bad boy type." We laughed, and I pretended not to notice her gaze glide over to Derek's locker. I've known about her crush on him since we've met, so I was used to her pining. I just wished it could see how much better she was then him.

"You should set your sights higher, you know. No ordinary 'bad boy' is good enough for Emily Davis. You need someone smart, sexy, college bound. Successful!"

"Sounds like you're picking out guys for yourself, Casey. I mean, we can go shopping for college boys if you want, but I never really pegged you for a college party girl. And with our reps, I'm not sure we'd get invited."

I shook my head. "I'm not shopping for anything. I just want to get good grades and early admit into a fantastic school and get everything I want in life, ever. Not much to ask for. Although, a new purse make be nice too. Mall after school?"

"A girl after my own heart," Emily cooed, holding the poems to her heart. "Maybe I'm not really into bad boys! Maybe it's dorky, keener girls I was in love with all along! Quick, read me some poetry as we shop!" I play-shrieked and she chased me down the halls. And my family thinks I don't have fun.

After our silly scene, though, there was a quick change in plans. I'm not as versed in popular people as Emily is, but a girl named Kendra who I am adamantly assured is the single most popular girl in school asked to be my partner, and Emily insisted I say yes. She walked away without having actually known my name.

"Em, do I really have to work with her?" I whined. Of course, I knew it was no use when I saw that gleam in her brown eyes. When Emily wants something, she tends to make it happen.

"Remember those college parties we wanted to go to?" she said, raising her eyebrows. "I just found our in."

So that was the plan. I do my project with Kendra, and we work our way into the cool crowd. It was a simple two-step plan to popularity. Nice, easy, organized. We really had a chance. And then lunch happened.

Now, when Derek says I ought to watch my back, you really think I'd learn. Maybe I just assume that someday he'll actually be mature for once. Someday he'll lay down his super-sudser and admit that he's just obnoxious because he loves the attention. Today was not that day.

I was doing fine explaining Emily Bennet Browning to Kendra and her friends when suddenly I bit down into a worm. I stood and spit and maybe might have caused a bit of a scene, but can anyone really blame me? My jerkoff step-brother just put a worm in my sandwich! Of course, it did turn out to be a gummy worm, proven by the fact that Derek came a bit off a bite for himself afterwards (on the end that was in my mouth no less!). In any case, I couldn't have looked more like a fool. And of course Kendra just had to look at him and he had to look at her and they had to have a flirty little thing going. Insult to injury, much?

After lunch, Emily was not so pleased with her decision to convince me to work with Kendra. It was too late by that point, so I just kindly sought to remind her of some basic ideas.

"Emily, sweetheart," I replied, grabbing her shoulders. "You are awesome. You are strong, smart, and independent. I might go so far as calling you badass. You are better than Derek—you are better than this whole school! And we're going to prove it when we get into an honest-to-god college party and grab you the hottest, smartest college boy we find, saving his slightly less hot but equal hot brother for me. This was your plan, girl. Believe in it."

She sighed in response. "I still don't like you working with her. I know you always say 'no girl hate' and everything, because of—"

"Because of the patriarchy that demeans us all the turns women against each other, yes—"

"But I like, really hate her right now, so be careful, okay?" I nodded to her concerns. She smiled a bit wistfully. "You really think I could date a cute college guy?"

"I think you'll have trouble sticking to just one. But you will, because you're respectful like that." She laughed at my response, and we headed to class.

Meanwhile, at home, our search for the mice hasn't gotten too far—they seem to be everywhere at once. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, since that means we're treating to the boys hopping around in horror whenever one of our little friends make a guest appearance. I got home after a couple of hours at the mall, with a brand new clutch purse as my prize for being patient while looking for deals, and found Derek standing on his favorite chair.

"You know, you're going to ruin your butt-print with your foot prints if you don't stop standing there. It's a chair. You're supposed to _sit_ in it." I laughed at my own joke, but he was still skirting his widened eyes around in the floor.

"Those mice are around here somewhere. I swear the little white one just ran by!" he replied, ignoring my wit.

"Yes, and I'm sure it is just adorable, but since you seem preoccupied, I'll just take the clicker here and watch over the tv for you. I hear there's a fantastic dance competition on."

He pointed at me, making direct eye contact and furrowing his brows. "Don't you dare! I'm watching the recap of last night's game, since _someone _threw a fit last night and didn't let me hear the whole thing."

"Too bad—ooh, is that your friend?" I shouted, pointing. He jumped and began to lose balance.

"Where?" he cried out.

I shrugged. "Must've been another dust bunny." I took my place on the couch, clicker in hand, and reveled in my small victory. He lowered himself from his chair.

"You're enjoying this too much. Don't make me get you back again. I absolutely will."

"No doubt," I replied as drily as possible. When I was in a good mood, I liked to believe it was impossible for him to get under my skin.

"Hey, who was that girl you were with at lunch?" he asked.

My skin crawled. He was already under. "No one of import for you, Der-ek. Just stay out of my business." I tossed the clicker at his head and, disappointed at his fast reflexes and ability to catch a remote control while barely looking, ascended the stairs to my room to write.

So here we are, Paul Two. I've got a popular girl coming over after dinner to study, an apparent death wish for Derek prankage, and a dream of college parties I never thought I would have (but think of the intellectual stimulation!). Hopefully the quest for mice will finish soon and I could use those little things at my disposal for revenge. Until then, I'll keep you updated. Maybe I'll even write again tonight—this really has been rather therapeutic!

Yours Truly,

Casey


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Paul Two,

I am utterly mortified. I can't even begin to tell you just how mortified I am—which only goes to sure that I am completely, horribly mortified. I supposed I'll start with dinner.

It was a simple dinner. Mom cooked, we ate, Derek annoyed. He recounted his tale of victory from lunch to Edwin, who only encouraged him despite George's disapproval. I tried to divert the table's attention.

"I made a new friend today. She'll be coming over soon to work on our project on Emily Barrett Browning."

Mom approved. "Oh, that's wonderful! You know, she always was my favorite poet."

"You read poetry?" George asked, and my mom rolled her eyes.

"And what exactly do you think those books on the bedside stand are?" she said back.

"That's where Casey and I got our love of reading from. Mom used to read to us every night, poetry and novels," Lizzie chipped in, and I nodded.

"I get a lot of my personality from mom," I said. "Isn't it obvious?"

Derek laughed. "That's so weird, because Nora is waaaay cooler than super-keener Space Case."

"Thank you," Mom said before thinking.

"Mo-om!"

"I mean, Der-ek! Your sister is not a super-keener!" she responded, nudging George.

He took the hint. "Derek, don't tease your sister. Just let her be a keener."

"I'm not a keener!" I snapped, standing up with my hands on the table. "I swear, you guys don't even know what I'm like. I'm going to be really cool really soon, so I guess you may as well get your cheap shots in now. I'll be too busy at parties later to listen to your insults then." I huffed and puffed and pouted, in what Emily would call my theatrical-mode. The family didn't take this seriously, though, with everyone snickering under their breath. "I'm going to go to my room and start studying for when Kendra gets here. Thanks for dinner, Mom." My voice was sour, but Mom didn't seem upset.

"So, her name is Kendra then? I'll be seeing you two later," Derek said with a smarmy grin.

I stomped my foot and started to storm off to my room, but not before the box on Lizzie's lap caught my eye—she always did put her fresh new animal friends in a shoebox, and she was oddly quiet at dinner. I made my way up the stairs huffily but I knew I had the biggest, stupidest grin on my face because I just found my mice, and that meant Derek wouldn't be smiling for long at all.

Kendra came over at 8, only an hour later than we were supposed to meet. It took a while to get her to stuff rambling about her life and focus on our project. By the time I thought we were about to get somewhere, Derek came to mess it all up. I was explaining to her my favorite sonnet when suddenly my computer screen went black and she said _someone_ had pulling the plug with a hockey stick—I'll give you three guesses who that was, and the first two don't count.

When I went out into the hall to confront him, he was obviously in the other direction from which I walked. This means I missed the opportunity to rip into him about respecting personal property, but did get to hear him talk to Kendra for a minute as I walked back to my room. He stumbled over his words, and it sounded like he even stumbled over his own feet for a moment. It was like my so-called klutzilla syndrome was contagious. I daresay it was endearing, save for the part that he's a jerky, immature baby.

Of course, when I got the computer back on, all my work was gone. I was beyond frustrated, and it didn't help when Kendra asked if Derek was single. I didn't even dignify her question with a response—what do I look like, his keeper? It's one thing if she has the worst taste in guys, but a complete other thing if she thinks I'm going to help her. Besides, he's a total slacker, which is the exact opposite influence she needs to pass this English project. She went home just a little later, living me to work on the project alone, as I almost always do. At least Emily stays and chats about boys with me while I work.

After I finished a good deal of work, I went to have a chat with Lizzie.

"Couldn't help but notice your shoebox at the dinner table," I started, closing the door to her room quietly behind me. "Did you find some furry new friends?"

Her eyes widened. "You're not going to tell anyone, are you? Howie and Mavis just wanted to stay inside, away from the cold."

"No, I'm not going to tell," I replied, shaking my head. "I don't really think Mom would mind anyway. I was just hoping to borrow, ah, Howie and Mavis for a few minutes. I won't even let them out of the box if you don't want me to. They'll be safe and sound and I'll return them right away. Promise."

Lizzie nodded. "This is to get Derek back, isn't it?" It was my turn to nod. "As long as you promise you'll return them in perfect condition, you can borrow them real quickly. Just don't get them confiscated or anything. Deal?"

"Deal." I took the box and headed over to Derek's room. With impeccable timing, he exited the bathroom just as I was about to knock on his door.

"Can I help you?" he asked, standing with one hand holding up the towel wrapped around his waist. I looked up immediately to keep my gaze from taking in the few of his mostly naked body—how rude does he get? He knows that me or Lizzie or Marti or Mom could be in the halls anytime and he's _still_ too lazy to carry his clothes into the bathroom pre-shower? It seriously takes like 2 more seconds. He snaps his fingers in front of my face and I look back down as he opens his bedroom door. "What are you doing outside my room?"

I gulp, watching the space between his shoulder blades as he steps into his room. I step in behind him and close the door almost all the way.

"What exactly are you trying to do?" he asks, clearly alarmed by my behavior but playing it cool. I hold up the closed shoe box in response.

"I wanted to show you something. Since you were so nice to me today," I answer with a sickeningly sweet smile. He glances down at it and then back to my eyes.

"I figure we're even now, right?"

"Derek, you erased my homework and put a gummy worm in my sandwich. We are nowhere near even. But we will be." I shake the box for a second before realizing there's living things instead and mentally apologizing to the poor mice. His eyes flick back down. He holds out his free hand in protest.

"Casey. Casey, what's in the box? It better not be what I think it is."

I tilt my head to the side. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Casey, seriously, whatever it is, don't. Just don't. I'm begging you. No, I'm telling you. I will get you back." He's circling around his bed to get away now, but I pursue him in just a few lengthy steps.

"Just wanted you to meet my friends Howie and Mavis," I say as open the box as quickly as possible, shoving it right under his nose. I get the response I expected—a high pitched screech as he flailed arms upwards and jumped onto the bed. What I didn't calculate into my plan was him dropping the towel that was keeping him at all modest. As he flipped out on his bed I was confronted, at direct face level, with my step-brothers… manhood. His member was literally right in my face. I dropped the box and threw my hands over my eyes.

"Did you just drop them?!" Derek shouted. "Why would you do that?!" I peeked through my fingers just in time to see him stop flailing and look down. He stood for a second, staring at himself. I followed the hair trailing down his belly until it connected with his pubic hair, which surrounded his flaccid penis. I've seen penises on the internet, I'll admit. I've watched porn. I'm sure all teenagers have at some point. But I've never seen a penis when it wasn't hard, and I've never seen a penis up close in real life. Until today. And of course, _of course_ it would be Derek's. I lifted my eyes up to catch his.

"Get. Out," he hissed. I grabbed the box and ran towards the door. I heard him step off the bed, but then he squeaked loudly and I turned to see him lifting his feet. I ran back over, and luckily Howie and Mavis were still there as he hopped around them. I bent down and scooped them into the box as quickly as possible. I stood and confronted him face to face.

"I apologize for everything that just happened," I said, staring into his eyes. They burned with anger; I am familiar with the look. I reached over and grabbed the towel he had dropped. "I hope we can forget this, put the past behind us, and never speak about it again."

"Out!" he shouted again, and this time I obeyed immediately. I shut the door behind me and ran to Lizzie.

"Thank you for the use of your friends," I said, out of breath.

"How'd it go?" she asked. "I heard him screaming. Was he really scared?"

I nodded. "Yes. Now let's never talk about this again. Please."

With that, I was out of her room and back to mine. It's been a long night—a long day, really, and my mind is racing. I'm anything but tired. At the same time, I'm physically and mentally exhausted, just not in the needing-sleep way. It's more of a needing-the-world-to-stop-spinning-so-fast way.

I can't stop the world from spinning, though, and I can't stop thinking. I can't stop thinking of Kendra liking Derek, or Derek liking Kendra, or seeing Derek's junk, or going to college parties. I wonder if we'll really go to parties and if Derek is as smooth and soft as he looks. I wonder if he used lotion to jack off like Sam once admitted he does, and I wonder if Kendra will ever help with the project. Most of all, I wonder what I'm going to tell Emily tomorrow when I see her. She is definitely going to want to hear about my day.

Yours awkwardly,

Casey


End file.
